Harm, Since From Each Hair 'Dangled A Hope For Me: Now Chance And Change! 'No Right Was In Their Child But Passes Now 'To That Child'S Child And Through Such Child To Me. 'I Am The Father Now, Come What, Come Will, 'I Represent My Child; He Comes Between 'Cuts Sudden Off The Sunshine Of This Life 'From Those Three: Why, The Gold Is In His Curls! 'Not With Old Pietro'S, Violante'S Head, 'Not His Grey Horror, Her More Hideous Black 'Go These, Devoted To The Knife!' 'Tis Done: Wherefore Should Mind Misgive, Heart Hesitate? He Calls To Counsel, Fashions Certain Four Colourless Natures Counted Clean Till Now, Rustic Simplicity, Uncorrupted Youth, Ignorant Virtue! Here'S The Gold O' The Prime When Saturn Ruled, Shall Shock Our Leaden Day The Clown Abash The Courtier! Mark It, Bards! The Courtier Tries His Hand On Clownship Here, Speaks A Word, Names A Crime, Appoints A Price, Just Breathes On What, Suffused With All Himself, Is Red-Hot Henceforth Past Distinction Now I' The Common Glow Of Hell. And Thus They Break And Blaze On Us At Rome, Christ'S Birthnight-Eve! Oh Angels That Sang Erst 'On The Earth, Peace! 'To Man, Good Will!' Such Peace Finds Earth To-Day! After The Seventeen Hundred Years, So Man Wills Good To Man, So Guido Makes Complete His Murder! What Is It I Said? Cuts Loose Three Lives That Hitherto He Suffered Cling, Simply Because Each Served To Nail Secure, By A Corner Of The Money-Bag, His Soul, Therefore, Lives Sacred Till The Babe'S First Breath O'Erweights Them In The Balance, Off They Fly! So Is The Murder Managed, Sin Conceived To The Full: And Why Not Crowned With Triumph Too? Why Must The Sin, Conceived Thus, Bring Forth Death? I Note How, Within Hair'S-Breadth Of Escape, Impunity And The Thing Supposed Success, Guido Is Found When The Check Comes, The Change, The Monitory Touch O' The Tether Felt By Few, Not Marked By Many, Named By None At The Moment, Only Recognised Aright I' The Fulness Of The Days, For God'S, Lest Sin Exceed The Service, Leap The Line: Such Check A Secret Which This Life Finds Hard To Keep, And, Often Guessed, Is Never Quite Revealed. Guido Must Needs Trip On A Stumbling-Block Too Vulgar, Too Absurdly Plain I' The Path! Study This Single Oversight Of Care, This Hebetude That Mars Sagacity, Forgetfulness Of What The Man Best Knew! Here Is A Stranger Who, With Need To Fly, Needs But To Ask And Have The Means Of Flight. Why, The First Urchin Tells You, To Leave Rome, Get Horses, You Must Show The Warrant, Just The Banal Scrap, Clerk'S Scribble, A Fair Word Buys, Or Foul One, If A Ducat Sweeten Word, And Straight Authority Will Back Demand, Give You The Pick O' The Post-House! In Such Wise, The Resident At Rome For Thirty Years, Guido, Instructs A Stranger! And Himself Forgets Just This Poor Paper Scrap, Wherewith Armed, Every Door He Knocks At Opens Wide To Save Him: Horsed And Manned, With Such Advance O' The Hunt Behind, Why 'Twere The Easy Task Of Hours Told On The Fingers Of One Hand, To Reach The Tuscan Frontier, Laugh At Home, Light-Hearted With His Fellows Of The Place, Prepared By That Strange Shameful Judgment, That Satire Upon A Sentence Just Pronounced By The Rota And Confirmed By The Granduke, Ready In A Circle To Receive Their Peer, Appreciate His Good Story How, When Rome, The Pope-King And The Populace Of Priests Made Common Cause With Their Confederate The Other Priestling Who Seduced His Wife, He, All Unaided, Wiped Out The Affront With Decent Bloodshed And Could Face His Friends, Frolic It In The World'S Eye. Ay, Such Tale Missed Such Applause, All By Such Oversight! So, Tired And Footsore, Those Blood-Flustered Five Went Reeling On The Road Through Dark And Cold, The Few Permissible Miles, To Sink At Length, Wallow And Sleep In The First Wayside Straw, As The Other Herd Quenched, I' The Wash O' The Wave, Each Swine, The Devil Inside Him: So Slept They, And So Were Caught And Caged All Through One Trip, Touch Of The Fool In Guido The Astute! He Curses The Omission, I Surmise, More Than The Murder. Why, Thou Fool And Blind, It Is The Mercy-Stroke That Stops Thy Fate, Hamstrings And Holds Thee To Thy Hurt, But How? On The Edge O' The Precipice! One Minute More, Thou Hadst Gone Farther And Fared Worse, My Son, Fathoms Down On The Flint And Fire Beneath! Thy Comrades Each And All Were Of One Mind Straightway, Thy Murder Done, To Murder Thee In Turn, Because Of Promised Pay Withheld. So, To The Last, Greed Found Itself At Odds With Craft In Thee, And, Proving Conqueror, Had Sent Thee, The Same Night That Crowned Thy Hope, Thither Where, This Same Day, I See Thee Not, Nor, Through God'S Mercy, Need, To-Morrow, See. Such I Find Guido, Midmost Blotch Of Black Discernible In This Group Of Clustered Crimes Huddling Together In The Cave They Call Their Palace, Outraged Day Thus Penetrates. Around Him Ranged, Now Close And Now Remote, Prominent Or Obscure To Meet The Needs O' The Mage And Master, I Detect Each Shape Subsidiary I' The Scene Nor Loathed The Less, All Alike Coloured, All Descried Akin By One And The Same Pitchy Furnace Stirred At The Centre: See, They Lick The Master'S Hand, This Fox-Faced Horrible Priest, This Brother-Brute The Abate, Why, Mere Wolfishness Looks Well, Guido Stands Honest In The Red O' The Flame, Beside This Yellow That Would Pass For White, This Guido, All Craft But No Violence, This Copier Of The Mien And Gait And Garb Of Peter And Paul, That He May Go Disguised, Rob Halt And Lame, Sick Folk I' The Temple-Porch! Armed With Religion, Fortified By Law, A Man Of Peace, Who Trims The Midnight Lamp And Turns The Classic Page And All For Craft, All To Work Harm With, Yet Incur No Scratch! While Guido Brings The Struggle To A Close, Paul Steps Back The Due Distance, Clear O' The Trap He Builds And Baits. Guido I Catch And Judge; Paul Is Past Reach In This World And My Time: That Is A Case Reserved. Pass To The Next, The Boy Of The Brood, The Young Girolamo Priest, Canon, And What More? Nor Wolf Nor Fox, But Hybrid, Neither Craft Nor Violence Wholly, Part Violence Part Craft: Such Cross Tempts Speculation Will Both Blend One Day, And Prove Hell'S Better Product? Or Subside And Let The Simple Quality Emerge, Go On With Satan'S Service The Old Way? Meanwhile, What Promise, What Performance Too! For There'S A New Distinctive Touch, I See, Lust Lacking In The Two Hell'S Own Blue Tint That Gives A Character And Marks The Man More Than A Match For Yellow And Red. Once More, A Case Reserved: Should I Doubt? Then Comes The Gaunt Grey Nightmare In The Furthest Smoke, The Hag That Gave These Three Abortions Birth, Unmotherly Mother And Unwomanly Woman, That Near Turns Motherhood To Shame, Womanliness To Loathing: No One Word, No Gesture To Curb Cruelty A Whit More Than The She-Pard Thwarts Her Playsome Whelps Trying Their Milk-Teeth On The Soft O' The Throat O' The First Fawn, Flung, With Those Beseeching Eyes, Flat In The Covert! How Should She But Couch, Lick The Dry Lips, Unsheathe The Blunted Claw, Catch 'Twixt Her Placid Eyewinks At What Chance Old Bloody Half-Forgotten Dream May Flit, Born When Herself Was Novice To The Taste, The While She Lets Youth Take Its Pleasure. Last, These God-Abandoned Wretched Lumps Of Life, These Four Companions, Country-Folk This Time, Not Tainted By The Unwholesome Civic Breath, Much Less The Curse O' The Court! Mere Striplings Too, Fit To Do Human Nature Justice Still! Surely When Impudence In Guido'S Shape Shall Propose Crime And Proffer Money'S-Worth To These Stout Tall Bright-Eyed And Black-Haired Boys, The Blood Shall Bound In Answer To Each Cheek Before The Indignant Outcry Break From Lip! Are These I' The Mood To Murder, Hardly Loosed From Healthy Autumn-Finish, The Ploughed Glebe, Grapes In The Barrel, Work At Happy End, And Winter Come With Rest And Christmas Play? How Greet They Guido With His Final Task (As If He But Proposed 'One Vineyard More 'To Dig, Ere Frost Come, Then Relax Indeed!') 'Anywhere, Anyhow And Anywhy, 'Murder Me Some Three People, Old And Young, 'Ye Never Heard The Names Of, And Be Paid 'So Much!' And The Whole Four Accede At Once. Demur? As Cattle Would, Bid March Or Halt! Is It Some Lingering Habit, Old Fond Faith I' The Lord Of The Land, Instructs Them, Birthright-Badge Of Feudal Tenure Claims Its Slaves Again? Not So At All, Thou Noble Human Heart! All Is Done Purely For The Pay, Which, Earned, And Not Forthcoming At The Instant, Makes Religion Heresy, And The Lord O' The Land Fit Subject For A Murder In His Turn. The Patron With Cut Throat And Rifled Purse, Deposited I' The Roadside-Ditch, His Due, Nought Hinders Each Good Fellow Trudging Home, The Heavier By A Piece Or Two In Poke, And So With New Zest To The Common Life, Mattock And Spade, Plough-Tail And Waggon-Shaft, Till Some Such Other Piece Of Luck Betide, Who Knows? Since This Is A Mere Start In Life, And None Of Them Exceeds The Twentieth Year. Nay, More I' The Background, Yet? Unnoticed Forms Claim To Be Classed, Subordinately Vile? Complacent Lookers-On That Laugh, Perchance Shake Head As Their Friend'S Horse-Play Grows Too Rough With The Mere Child He Manages Amiss But Would Not Interfere And Make Bad Worse For Twice The Fractious Tears And Prayers: Thou Know'St Civility Better, Marzi-Medici, Governor For Thy Kinsman The Granduke! Fit Representative Of Law, Man'S Lamp I' The Magistrate'S Grasp Full-Flare, No Rushlight-End Sputtering 'Twixt Thumb And Finger Of The Priest! Whose Answer To These Comparini'S Cry Is A Threat, Whose Remedy Of Pompilia'S Wrong A Shrug O' The Shoulder, A Facetious Word Or Wink, Traditional With Tuscan Wits, To Guido In The Doorway. Laud To Law! The Wife Is Pushed Back To The Husband, He Who Knows How These Home-Squabblings Persecute People Who Have The Public Good To Mind, And Work Best With A Silence In The Court! Ah, But I Save My Word At Least For Thee, Archbishop, Who Art Under Me In The Church, As I Am Under God, Thou, Chosen By Both To Do The Shepherd'S Office, Feed The Sheep How Of This Lamb That Panted At Thy Foot While The Wolf Pressed On Her Within Crook'S Reach? Wast Thou The Hireling That Did Turn And Flee? With Thee At Least Anon The Little Word! Such Denizens O' The Cave Now Cluster Round And Heat The Furnace Sevenfold: Time Indeed A Bolt From Heaven Should Cleave Roof And Clear Place, Transfix And Show The World, Suspiring Flame, The Main Offender, Scar And Brand The Rest Hurrying, Each Miscreant To His Hole: Then Flood And Purify The Scene With Outside Day Which Yet, In The Absolutest Drench Of Dark, Ne'Er Wants A Witness, Some Stray Beauty-Beam To The Despair Of Hell. First Of The First, Such I Pronounce Pompilia, Then As Now Perfect In Whiteness Stoop Thou Down, My Child, Give One Good Moment To The Poor Old Pope Heart-Sick At Having All His World To Blame Let Me Look At Thee In The Flesh As Erst, Let Me Enjoy The Old Clean Linen Garb, Not The New Splendid Vesture! Armed And Crowned, Would Michael, Yonder, Be, Nor Crowned Nor Armed, The Less Pre-Eminent Angel? Everywhere I See In The World The Intellect Of Man, That Sword, The Energy His Subtle Spear, The Knowledge Which Defends Him Like A Shield Everywhere; But They Make Not Up, I Think, The Marvel Of A Soul Like Thine, Earth'S Flower She Holds Up To The Softened Gaze Of God! It Was Not Given Pompilia To Know Much, Speak Much, To Write A Book, To Move Mankind, Be Memorised By Who Records My Time. Yet If In Purity And Patience, If In Faith Held Fast Despite The Plucking Fiend, Safe Like The Signet-Stone With The New Name That Saints Are Known By, If In Right Returned For Wrong, Most Pardon For Worst Injury, If There Be Any Virtue, Any Praise, Then Will This Woman-Child Have Proved Who Knows? Just The One Prize Vouchsafed Unworthy Me, Ten Years A Gardener Of The Untoward Ground, I Till, This Earth, My Sweat And Blood Manure All The Long Day That Barrenly Grows Dusk: At Least One Blossom Makes Me Proud At Eve Born 'Mid The Briers Of My Enclosure! Still (Oh, Here As Elsewhere, Nothingness Of Man!) Those Be The Plants, Imbedded Yonder South To Mellow In The Morning, Those Made Fat By The Master'S Eye, That Yield Such Timid Leaf, Uncertain Bud, As Product Of His Pains! While See How This Mere Chance-Sown, Cleft-Nursed Seed, That Sprang Up By The Wayside 'Neath The Foot Of The Enemy, This Breaks All Into Blaze, Spreads Itself, One Wide Glory Of Desire To Incorporate The Whole Great Sun It Loves From The Inch-Height Whence It Looks And Longs! My Flower, My Rose, I Gather For The Breast Of God, This I Praise Most In Thee, Where All I Praise, That Having Been Obedient To The End According To The Light Allotted, Law Prescribed Thy Life, Still Tried, Still Standing Test, Dutiful To The Foolish Parents First, Submissive Next To The Bad Husband, Nay, Tolerant Of Those Meaner Miserable That Did His Hests, Eked Out The Dole Of Pain, Thou, Patient Thus, Couldst Rise From Law To Law, The Old To The New, Promoted At One Cry O' The Trump Of God To The New Service, Not To Longer Bear, But Henceforth Fight, Be Found Sublime In New Impatience With The Foe! Endure Man And Obey God: Plant Firm Foot On Neck Of Man, Tread Man Into The Hell Meet For Him, And Obey God All The More! Oh Child That Didst Despise Thy Life So Much When It Seemed Only Thine To Keep Or Lose, How The Fine Ear Felt Fall The First Low Word 'Value Life, And Preserve Life For My Sake!' Thou Didst . . . How Shall I Say? . . . Receive So Long The Standing Ordinance Of God On Earth, What Wonder If The Novel Claim Had Clashed With Old Requirement, Seemed To Supersede Too Much The Customary Law? But, Brave, Thou At First Prompting Of What I Call God, And Fools Call Nature, Didst Hear, Comprehend, Accept The Obligation Laid On Thee, Mother Elect, To Save The Unborn Child, As Brute And Bird Do, Reptile And The Fly, Ay And, I Nothing Doubt, Even Tree, Shrub, Plant And Flower O' The Field, All In A Common Pact To Worthily Defend That Trust Of Trusts, Life From The Ever Living: Didst Resist Anticipate The Office That Is Mine And With His Own Sword Stay The Upraised Arm, The Endeavour Of The Wicked, And Defend Him Who, Again In My Default, Was There For Visible Providence: One Less True Than Thou To Touch, I' The Past, Less Practised In The Right, Approved So Far In All Docility To All Instruction, How Had Such An One Made Scruple 'Is This Motion A Decree?' It Was Authentic To The Experienced Ear O' The Good And Faithful Servant. Go Past Me And Get Thy Praise, And Be Not Far To Seek Presently When I Follow If I May! And Surely Not So Very Much Apart Need I Place Thee, My Warrior-Priest, In Whom What If I Gain The Other Rose, The Gold. We Grave To Imitate God'S Miracle, Greet Monarchs With, Good Rose In Its Degree? Irregular Noble Scapegrace Son The Same! Faulty And Peradventure Ours The Fault Who Still Misteach, Mislead, Throw Hook And Line Thinking To Land Leviathan Forsooth, Tame The Scaled Neck, Play With Him As A Bird, And Bind Him For Our Maidens! Better Bear The King Of Pride Go Wantoning Awhile, Unplagued By Cord In Nose And Thorn In Jaw, Through Deep To Deep, Followed By All That Shine, Churning The Blackness Hoary: He Who Made The Comely Terror, He Shall Make The Sword To Match That Piece Of Netherstone His Heart, Ay, Nor Miss Praise Thereby; Who Else Shut Fire I' The Stone, To Leap From Mouth At Sword'S First Stroke, In Lamps Of Love And Faith, The Chivalry That Dares The Right And Disregards Alike The Yea And Nay O' The World? Self-Sacrifice, What If An Idol Took It? Ask The Church Why She Was Wont To Turn Each Venus Here, Poor Rome Perversely Lingered Round, Despite Instruction, For The Sake Of Purblind Love, Into Madonna'S Shape, And Waste No Whit Of Aught So Rare On Earth As Gratitude! All This Sweet Savour Was Not Ours But Thine, Nard Of The Rock, A Natural Wealth We Name Incense, And Treasure Up As Food For Saints, When Flung To Us Whose Function Was To Give Not Find The Costly Perfume. Do I Smile? Nay, Caponsacchi, Much I Find Amiss, Blameworthy, Punishable In This Freak Of Thine, This Youth Prolonged Though Age Was Ripe, This Masquerade In Sober Day, With Change Of Motley Too, Now Hypocrite'S-Disguise, Now Fool'S-Costume: Which Lie Was Least Like Truth, Which The Ungainlier, More Discordant Garb With That Symmetric Soul Inside My Son, The Churchman'S Or The Worldling'S, Let Him Judge, Our Adversary Who Enjoys The Task! I Rather Chronicle The Healthy Rage, When The First Moan Broke From The Martyr-Maid At That Uncaging Of The Beasts, Made Bare My Athlete On The Instant, Gave Such Good Great Undisguised Leap Over Post And Pale Right Into The Mid-Cirque, Free Fighting-Place. There May Have Been Rash Stripping Every Rag Went To The Winds, Infringement Manifold Of Laws Prescribed Pudicity, I Fear, In This Impulsive And Prompt Self-Display! Ever Such Tax Comes Of The Foolish Youth; Men Mulct The Wiser Manhood, And Suspect No Veritable Star Swims Out Of Cloud: Bear Thou Such Imputation, Undergo The Penalty I Nowise Dare Relax, Conventional Chastisement And Rebuke. But For The Outcome, The Brave Starry Birth Conciliating Earth With All That Cloud, Thank Heaven As I Do! Ay, Such Championship Of God At First Blush, Such Prompt Cheery Thud Of Glove On Ground That Answers Ringingly The Challenge Of The False Knight, Watch We Long, And Wait We Vainly For Its Gallant Like From Those Appointed To The Service, Sworn His Body-Guard With Pay And Privilege White-Cinct, Because In White Walks Sanctity, Red-Socked, How Else Proclaim Fine Scorn Of Flesh, Unchariness Of Blood When Blood Faith Begs? Where Are The Men-At-Arms With Cross On Coat? Aloof, Bewraying Their Attire: Whilst Thou In Mask And Motley, Pledged To Dance Not Fight, Sprang'St Forth The Hero! In Thought, Word And Deed, How Throughout All Thy Warfare Thou Wast Pure, I Find It Easy To Believe: And If At Any Fateful Moment Of The Strange Adventure, The Strong Passion Of That Strait, Fear And Surprise, May Have Revealed Too Much, As When A Thundrous Midnight, With Black Air That Burns, Rain-Drops That Blister, Breaks A Spell, Draws Out The Excessive Virtue Of Some Sheathed Shut Unsuspected Flower That Hoards And Hides Immensity Of Sweetness, So, Perchance, Might The Surprise And Fear Release Too Much The Perfect Beauty Of The Body And Soul Thou Savedst In Thy Passion For God'S Sake, He Who Is Pity: Was The Trial Sore? Temptation Sharp? Thank God A Second Time! Why Comes Temptation But For Man To Meet And Master And Make Crouch Beneath His Foot, And So Be Pedestalled In Triumph? Pray 'Lead Us Into No Such Temptations, Lord!' Yea, But, O Thou Whose Servants Are The Bold, Lead Such Temptations By The Head And Hair, Reluctant Dragons, Up To Who Dares Fight, That So He May Do Battle And Have Praise! Do I Not See The Praise? That While Thy Mates Bound To Deserve I' The Matter, Prove At Need Unprofitable Through The Very Pains We Gave To Train Them Well And Start Them Fair, Are Found Too Stiff, With Standing Ranked And Ranged, For Onset In Good Earnest, Too Obtuse Of Ear, Through Iteration Of Command, For Catching Quick The Sense Of The Real Cry, Thou, Whose Sword-Hand Was Used To Strike The Lute, Whose Sentry-Station Graced Some Wanton'S Gate, Thou Didst Push Forward And Show Mettle, Shame The Laggards, And Retrieve The Day. Well Done! Be Glad Thou Hast Let Light Into The World, Through That Irregular Breach O' The Boundary, See The Same Upon Thy Path And March Assured, Learning Anew The Use Of Soldiership, Self-Abnegation, Freedom From All Fear, Loyalty To The Life'S End! Ruminate, Deserve The Initiatory Spasm, Once More Work, Be Unhappy But Bear Life, My Son! And Troop You, Somewhere 'Twixt The Best And Worst, Where Crowd The Indifferent Product, All Too Poor Makeshift, Starved Samples Of Humanity! Father And Mother, Huddle There And Hide! A Gracious Eye May Find You! Foul And Fair, Sadly Mixed Natures: Self-Indulgent, Yet Self-Sacrificing Too: How The Love Soars, How The Craft, Avarice, Vanity And Spite Sink Again! So They Keep The Middle Course, Slide Into Silly Crime At Unaware, Slip Back Upon The Stupid Virtue, Stay Nowhere Enough For Being Classed, I Hope And Fear. Accept The Swift And Rueful Death, Taught, Somewhat Sternlier Than Is Wont, What Waits The Ambiguous Creature, How The One Black Tuft Steadies The Aim Of The Arrow Just As Well As The Wide Faultless White On The Bird'S Breast. Nay, You Were Punished In The Very Part That Looked Most Pure Of Speck, The Honest Love Betrayed You, Did Love Seem Most Worthy Pains, Challenge Such Purging, As Ordained Survive When All The Rest Of You Was Done With? Go! Never Again Elude The Choice Of Tints! White Shall Not Neutralise The Black, Nor Good Compensate Bad In Man, Absolve Him So: Life'S Business Being Just The Terrible Choice. So Do I See, Pronounce On All And Some Grouped For My Judgment Now, Profess No Doubt While I Pronounce: Dark, Difficult Enough The Human Sphere, Yet Eyes Grow Sharp By Use, I Find The Truth, Dispart The Shine From Shade, As A Mere Man May, With No Special Touch O' The Lynx-Gift In Each Ordinary Orb: Nay, If The Popular Notion Class Me Right, One Of Well Nigh Decayed Intelligence, What Of That? Through Hard Labour And Good Will, And Habitude That Gives A Blind Man Sight At The Practised Finger-Ends Of Him, I Do Discern, And Dare Decree In Consequence, Whatever Prove The Peril Of Mistake. Whence, Then, This Quite New Quick Cold Thrill, Cloud-Like, This Keen Dread Creeping From A Quarter Scarce Suspected In The Skies I Nightly Scan? What Slacks The Tense Nerve, Saps The Wound-Up Spring Of The Act That Should And Shall Be, Sends The Mount And Mass O' The Whole Man'S-Strength, Conglobed So Late Shudderingly Into Dust, A Moment'S Work? While I Stand Firm, Go Fearless, In This World, For This Life Recognise And Arbitrate, Touch And Let Stay, Or Else Remove A Thing, Judge 'This Is Right, This Object Out Of Place,' Candle In Hand That Helps Me And To Spare, What If A Voice Deride Me, 'Perk And Pry! 'Brighten Each Nook With Thine Intelligence! 'Play The Good Householder, Ply Man And Maid 'With Tasks Prolonged Into The Midnight, Test 'Their Work And Nowise Stint Of The Due Wage 'Each Worthy Worker: But With Gyves And Whip 'Pay Thou Misprision Of A Single Point 'Plain To Thy Happy Self Who Lift'St The Light, 'Lament'St The Darkling, Bold To All Beneath! 'What If Thyself Adventure, Now The Place 'Is Purged So Well? Leave Pavement And Mount Roof, 'Look Round Thee For The Light Of The Upper Sky, 'The Fire Which Lit Thy Fire Which Finds Default 'In Guido Franceschini To His Cost! 'What If, Above In The Domain Of Light, 'Thou Miss The Accustomed Signs, Remark Eclipse? 'Shalt Thou Still Gaze On Ground Nor Lift A Lid, 'Steady In Thy Superb Prerogative, 'Thy Inch Of Inkling, Nor Once Face The Doubt 'I' The Sphere Above Thee, Darkness To Be Felt?' Yet My Poor Spark Had For Its Source, The Sun; Thither I Sent The Great Looks Which Compel Light From Its Fount: All That I Do And Am Comes From The Truth, Or Seen Or Else Surmised, Remembered Or Divined, As Mere Man May: I Know Just So, Nor Otherwise. As I Know, I Speak, What Should I Know, Then, And How Speak Were There A Wild Mistake Of Eye Or Brain In The Recorded Governance Above? If My Own Breath, Only, Blew Coal Alight I Called Celestial And The Morning-Star? I, Who In This World Act Resolvedly, Dispose Of Men, The Body And The Soul, As They Acknowledge Or Gainsay This Light I Show Them, Shall I Too Lack Courage? Leave I, Too, The Post Of Me, Like Those I Blame? Refuse, With Kindred Inconsistency, Grapple With Danger Whereby Souls Grow Strong? I Am Near The End; But Still Not At The End; All Till The Very End Is Trial In Life: At This Stage Is The Trial Of My Soul Danger To Face, Or Danger To Refuse? Shall I Dare Try The Doubt Now, Or Not Dare? O Thou, As Represented Here To Me In Such Conception As My Soul Allows, Under Thy Measureless My Atom Width! Man'S Mind What Is It But A Convex Glass Wherein Are Gathered All The Scattered Points Picked Out Of The Immensity Of Sky, To Reunite There, Be Our Heaven On Earth, Our Known Unknown, Our God Revealed To Man? Existent Somewhere, Somehow, As A Whole; Here, As A Whole Proportioned To Our Sense, There, (Which Is Nowhere, Speech Must Babble Thus!) In The Absolute Immensity, The Whole Appreciable Solely By Thyself, Here, By The Little Mind Of Man, Reduced To Littleness That Suits His Faculty, Appreciable Too In The Degree; Between Thee And Ourselves Nay Even, Again, Below Us, To The Extreme Of The Minute, Appreciable By How Many And What Diverse Modes Of The Life Thou Makest Be! (Why Live Except For Love, How Love Unless They Know?) Each Of Them, Only Filling To The Edge, Insect Or Angel, His Just Length And Breadth, Due Facet Of Reflection, Full, No Less, Angel Or Insect, As Thou Framedst Things, I It Is Who Have Been Appointed Here To Represent Thee, In My Turn, On Earth, Just As, If New Philosophy Know Aught, This One Earth, Out Of All The Multitude Of Peopled Worlds, As Stars Are Now Supposed, Was Chosen, And No Sun-Star Of The Swarm, For Stage And Scene Of Thy Transcendent Act Beside Which Even The Creation Fades Into A Puny Exercise Of Power. Choice Of The World, Choice Of The Thing I Am, Both Emanate Alike From The Dread Play Of Operation Outside This Our Sphere Where Things Are Classed And Counted Small Or Great, Incomprehensibly The Choice Is Thine! I Therefore Bow My Head And Take Thy Place. There Is, Beside The Works, A Tale Of Thee In The World'S Mouth Which I Find Credible: I Love It With My Heart: Unsatisfied, I Try It With My Reason, Nor Discept From Any Point I Probe And Pronounce Sound. Mind Is Not Matter Nor From Matter, But Above, Leave Matter Then, Proceed With Mind: Man'S Be The Mind Recognised At The Height, Leave The Inferior Minds And Look At Man. Is He The Strong, Intelligent And Good Up To His Own Conceivable Height? Nowise. Enough O' The Low, Soar The Conceivable Height, Find Cause To Match The Effect In Evidence, Works In The World, Not Man'S, Then God'S; Leave Man: Conjecture Of The Worker By The Work: Is There Strength There? Enough: Intelligence? Ample: But Goodness In A Like Degree? Not To The Human Eye In The Present State, This Isoscele Deficient In The Base. What Lacks, Then, Of Perfection Fit For God But Just The Instance Which This Tale Supplies Of Love Without A Limit? So Is Strength, So Is Intelligence; Then Love Is So, Unlimited In Its Self-Sacrifice: Then Is The Tale True And God Shows Complete. Beyond The Tale, I Reach Into The Dark, Feel What I Cannot See, And Still Faith Stands: I Can Believe This Dread Machinery Of Sin And Sorrow, Would Confound Me Else, Devised, All Pain, At Most Expenditure Of Pain By Who Devised Pain, To Evolve, By New Machinery In Counterpart, The Moral Qualities Of Man How Else? To Make Him Love In Turn And Be Beloved, Creative And Self-Sacrificing Too, And Thus Eventually God-Like, (Ay, 'I Have Said Ye Are Gods,' Shall It Be Said For Nought?) Enable Man To Wring, From Out All Pain, All Pleasure For A Common Heritage To All Eternity: This May Be Surmised, The Other Is Revealed, Whether A Fact, Absolute, Abstract, Independent Truth, Historic, Not Reduced To Suit Man'S Mind, Or Only Truth Reverberate, Changed, Made Pass A Spectrum Into Mind, The Narrow Eye, The Same And Not The Same, Else Unconceived Though Quite Conceivable To The Next Grade Above It In Intelligence, As Truth Easy To Man Were Blindness To The Beast By Parity Of Procedure, The Same Truth In A New Form, But Changed In Either Case: What Matter So The Intelligence Be Filled? To The Child, The Sea Is Angry, For It Roars; Frost Bites, Else Why The Tooth-Like Fret On Face? Man Makes Acoustics Deal With The Sea'S Wrath, Explains The Choppy Cheek By Chymic Law, To Both, Remains One And The Same Effect On Drum Of Ear And Root Of Nose, Change Cause Never So Thoroughly: So Our Heart Be Struck, What Care I, By God'S Gloved Hand Or The Bare? Nor Do I Much Perplex Me With Aught Hard, Dubious In The Transmitting Of The Tale, No, Nor With Certain Riddles Set To Solve. This Life Is Training And A Passage; Pass, Still, We March Over Some Flat Obstacle We Made Give Way Before Us; Solid Truth In Front Of It, Were Motion For The World? The Moral Sense Grows But By Exercise. 'Tis Even As Man Grew Probatively Initiated In Godship, Set To Make A Fairer Moral World Than This He Finds, Guess Now What Shall Be Known Hereafter. Thus, O' The Present Problem: As We See And Speak, A Faultless Creature Is Destroyed, And Sin Has Had Its Way I' The World Where God Should Rule. Ay, But For This Irrelevant Circumstance Of Inquisition After Blood, We See Pompilia Lost And Guido Saved: How Long? For His Whole Life: How Much Is That Whole Life? We Are Not Babes, But Know The Minute'S Worth, And Feel That Life Is Large And The World Small, So, Wait Till Life Have Passed From Out The World. Neither Does This Astonish At The End, That, Whereas I Can So Receive And Trust, Men, Made With Hearts And Souls The Same As Mine, Reject And Disbelieve, Subordinate The Future To The Present, Sin, Nor Fear. This I Refer Still To The Foremost Fact, Life Is Probation And This Earth No Goal But Starting-Point Of Man: Compel Him Strive, Which Means, In Man, As Good As Reach The Goal, Why Institute That Race, His Life, At All? But This Does Overwhelm Me With Surprise, Touch Me To Terror, Not That Faith, The Pearl, Should Be Let Lie By Fishers Wanting Food, Nor, Seen And Handled By A Certain Few Critical And Contemptuous, Straight Consigned To Shore And Shingle For The Pebble It Proves, But That, When Haply Found And Known And Named By The Residue Made Rich For Evermore, These, Ay, These Favoured Ones, Should In A Trice Turn, And With Double Zest Go Dredge For Whelks, Mud-Worms That Make The Savoury Soup. Enough O' The Disbelievers, See The Faithful Few! How Do The Christians Here Deport Them, Keep Their Robes Of White Unspotted By The World? What Is This Aretine Archbishop, This Man Under Me As I Am Under God, This Champion Of The Faith, I Armed And Decked, Pushed Forward, Put Upon A Pinnacle, To Show The Enemy His Victor, See! What'S The Best Fighting When The Couple Close? Pompilia Cries, 'Protect Me From The Fiend!' 'No, For Thy Guido Is One Heady, Strong, 'Dangerous To Disquiet: Let Him Bide! 'He Needs Some Bone To Mumble, Help Amuse 'The Darkness Of His Den With: So, The Fawn 'Which Limps Up Bleeding To My Foot And Lies, ' Come To Me, Daughter, Thus I Throw Him Back!' Have We Misjudged Here, Over-Armed The Knight, Given Gold And Silk Where The Plain Steel Serves Best, Enfeebled Whom We Sought To Fortify, Made An Archbishop And Undone A Saint? Well Then, Descend These Heights, This Pride Of Life, Sit In The Ashes With The Barefoot Monk Who Long Ago Stamped Out The Worldly Sparks. Fasting And Watching, Stone Cell And Wire Scourge, No Such Indulgence As Unknits The Strength These Breed The Tight Nerve And Tough Cuticle, Let The World'S Praise Or Blame Run Rillet-Wise Off The Broad Back And Brawny Breast, We Know! He Meets The First Cold Sprinkle Of The World And Shudders To The Marrow, 'Save This Child? 'Oh, My Superiors, Oh, The Archbishop Here! 'Who Was It Dared Lay Hand Upon The Ark 'His Betters Saw Fall Nor Put Finger Forth? 'Great Ones Could Help Yet Help Not: Why Should Small? 'I Break My Promise: Let Her Break Her Heart!' These Are The Christians Not The Wordlings, Not The Sceptics, Who Thus Battle For The Faith! If Foolish Virgins Disobey And Sleep, What Wonder? But The Wise That Watch, This Time Sell Lamps And Buy Lutes, Exchange Oil For Wine, The Mystic Spouse Betrays The Bridegroom Here. To Our Last Resource, Then! Since All Flesh Is Weak, Bind Weaknesses Together, We Get Strength: The Individual Weighed, Found Wanting, Try Some Institution, Honest Artifice Whereby The Units Grow Compact And Firm: Each Props The Other, And So Stand Is Made By Our Embodied Cowards That Grow Brave. The Monastery Called Of Convertites, Meant To Help Women Because These Helped Christ, A Thing Existent Only While It Acts, Does As Designed, Else A Nonentity, For What Is An Idea Unrealised? Pompilia Is Consigned To These For Help. They Do Help; They Are Prompt To Testify To Her Pure Life And Saintly Dying Days. She Dies, And Lo, Who Seemed So Poor, Proves Rich! What Does The Body That Lives Through Helpfulness To Women For Christ'S Sake? The Kiss Turns Bite, The Dove'S Note Changes To The Crow'S Cry: Judge! 'Seeing That This Our Convent Claims Of Right 'What Goods Belong To Those We Succour, Be 'The Same Proved Women Of Dishonest Life, 'And Seeing That This Trial Made Appear 'Pompilia Was In Such Predicament, 'The Convent Hereupon Pretends To Said 'Succession Of Pompilia, Issues Writ, 'And Takes Possession By The Fisc'S Advice.' Such Is Their At